For several days after their unsuccessful fishing expedition, Jack and Matt were extremely obedient and undemonstrative. Village school teachers, in that country, were not unfrequently the stout-armed sons of farmers, and when they plied the rod, any memory of the occasion was not likely soon to become dimmed. It was perhaps for this reason that even when Matt or Jack amused himself by whistling, the airs selected were sure to have been written on minor keys, and that both boys sought earnestly, each by himself, for some method of setting some positive moral success against their late failure at benevolence.
The opportunity did not linger long. Matt was sitting in the house one evening, wondering whether to go to bed at once, or wrestle again with an exasperating problem in cube root, the answer to which, as printed in the book, he felt thrice assured was wrong, when a long whistle of peculiar volume and inflection informed him that Jack was outside and had something to communicate. Matt sprang to his feet, for only a matter of extreme importance would have brought Jack across town at so late an hour. The worst boy in town was found by Matt to be hanging across the garden gate and so powerfully charged with virtuous indignation that he was unable to contain it all.
"Look here, Matt," said he, "you know what an awful thing whiskey is, don't you?"
"I should think I did," replied Matt, "Havn't I been to every temperance meeting that's been held?"
"So you have," said Jack, "Well what do you think? There's Hoccamine, the corner storekeeper, gone and bought seven barrels."
"Isn't that dreadful!" exclaimed Matt. "If he starts a rum-shop here, it'll spoil the custom of his store."
"He isn't going to have a bar," explained Jack, "he's going to sell by the gallon. But what's the difference?—rum is rum, and it does harm, no matter in what way it is sold."
"It's perfectly awful," said Matt.
"All right," said Jack, "Now I'll tell you what I propose. It wasn't brought up to the store until after dark—I suppose they were ashamed—and it is on the sidewalk beside their store, to be put down cellar as soon as the clerks come in the morning." Then Jack put his lips down to Matt's ear, and whispered, "Let's spill it for them?"
"Gracious!" whispered Matt, "how can we?"